


a case of mistaken identity

by jackgyeoms



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Destruction of Private Property, M/M, Mistaken Identity, past lisa snart/sydney palmer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-16
Updated: 2016-06-16
Packaged: 2018-07-15 12:36:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7222561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackgyeoms/pseuds/jackgyeoms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What are you doing?”</p>
<p>Leonard pauses mid-swing, and turns to squint at the man on the other side of the room. The posh sort, long coat, conservative haircut, look of shock – and definitely not the man that Leonard was here to scare. Huh.</p>
<p>
  <i>For the prompt: "I broke into your house thinking it was my sisters boyfriends house, that's why I broke your Tv. Please don't call the cops."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	a case of mistaken identity

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd so all mistakes are my own

 

“What are you doing?”

Leonard pauses mid-swing, and turns to squint at the man on the other side of the room. The posh sort, long coat, conservative haircut, look of shock – and definitely not the man that Leonard was here to scare. Huh.

“This is apartment 4D,” he states.

The man shakes his head. “Yes, this is 4D, but that doesn’t really answer my question – what are you doing?”

Leonard eyes him. Somehow, not what he expected. His sister was never one for the _sweet_ type. “Your Sydney Palmer?”

The man groans, loudly, with all of the weight of someone who is deeply exasperated. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, mutters something under his breath – counting, he’s counting – before they open and pin Leonard with a tired look. “What’s he done now?”

Leonard’s lips quirk, and his arm lowers so the bat swings at his feet. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“I’m Ray Palmer. Sydney’s brother. I’m sure whatever money he owes you, we can cover it without you causing” - his eyes flick to the television set –“ _further_ damage to my property.”

“He doesn’t owe me money,” Leonard says.

Ray frowns. His eyes dart between the damage caused and Leonard himself. There’s a measure of disbelief to his stare, but he doesn’t comment, and if anything that makes Leonard smile.

He says, “He was dating my sister.”

Ray’s mouth forms an ‘o’. “And you thought best payback was to destroy the TV?”

Leonard glances down into the cracks and sparks and wiring, and feels satisfied. Worth it. He gives a one armed shrug. “I decided bodily harm was best left to my sister’s discretion.”

Ray pushes a hand through his hair, and messes up that Boy Scout style. Leonard watches the hair flop just out of perfection, and wonders how much it would take to ruin the cut entirely.  He pauses – huh. Not unsurprising. Sydney Palmer is a dick, but his brother –

“I could report you,” Ray says.

“If you were going to, you would have already,” Leonard points out.

Ray quips, “But then we wouldn’t be having this wonderful conversation.”

Leonard huffs a laugh. Ray’s lips turn upwards.

“And what do I do when the conversation ends?”

Ray shrugs. “I’m not sure. It’ll be a surprise to us both.”

He’s tempted to stay, to find out, because he doesn’t really want this conversation to end. Raymond wasn’t part of the plan, but he’s a pleasant diversion and, honestly, Leonard wants to find out more. He’s always been methodical with his interests, and he doubts he will be truly satisfied until Raymond Palmer has been appropriately taken apart. But Leonard is well aware that this place has nothing for him, and although he questions whether the police will truly be called, he doesn’t want to wait around and find out.

So he swings the bat up to rest on his shoulder, shoves his free hand into the deep pockets of his parka and strolls towards the door.

He makes a point of brushing against Ray, stopping to give him one last long look. This close, Ray’s eyes are so wide and honest, his lips so soft, his coat definitely designer; his smell is an expensive cologne and Len wants to bury his face into the crook of his neck just to investigate further. He resists, because he’s all about personal boundaries, but does make a point of dragging his tongue across his bottom lip and feels vindicated when Ray’s eyes track it. “Apologises for the mistake, Raymond.”

“Ray,” he corrects automatically. His voice is higher than it was before. Good, Leonard thinks.

He leaves with a smirk on a face, and a feeling of gratification resting upon his flesh.

-

He breaks in again, a week later, and leaves unmarked bank notes on the dining room table. They’re wadded together with an elastic band, crumbled at the edges from misuse, and placed on top of a note.

_For the TV._

_Len._

-

If he’s honest, he kind of expects that to be that. He’ll fantasise about dimples and long fingers for a few days, a week tops, and then push Raymond Palmer to the back of his mind. Their paths were unlikely to cross again, and there is no reason for them to seek each other out. Or he thought, before Ray turned up at his apartment.

It’s Lisa who lets him in, and Leonard thinks it must have been her who told him where they were, just from the smirk that she shot him, and the tune to her voice with she says, “Lenny, you’ve got a visitor.”

“Raymond,” Leonard states, and Ray smiles awkwardly at him. His hands are still in his coat pockets, so when his shoulders rise, he looks so much bigger.

Across from him, Mick has stopped watching the hockey game in favour of taking in their new visitor. They didn’t exactly live in shambles, but it’s clear from the straight line of Ray’s trousers to the thread count of his coat that he isn’t supposed to be here. Mick’s eyes drag back to Len, angles his head.

“Mick, this is Raymond Palmer. Raymond, meet Mick.”

His name brings a light of acknowledgement to Mick’s eye. Unsurprising. Len told him what had happened – he had to explain where those bills went to. Mick laughed himself hoarse, and proceeded to tell Lisa, who will definitely never let him live it down. Mick looks to her now, and she’s grinning, nodding.

“He’s Sydney’s brother,” she supplies.

“But please don’t judge me on his actions,” Ray interjects quickly, “I’m nothing like him.”

Mick eyeballs the hand that is thrust towards him with a pleasant, “Nice to meet you,” and then barks out his laughter.

“Yeah, alright Haircut,” he snorts, shakes his head and then pushes himself onto his feet. “You want a beer?”

“I-“

“Yes, he will,” Lisa interrupts, guides Ray into the space Mick had warmed on the sofa, “Sit tight and we’ll get it for you.”

“Subtly is an art form lost on you two,” Leonard comments, and Lisa’s amusement can be heard even behind a closed door.

Quiet falls between them. The commentators over the game still speak, but Leonard is no longer interested in the words. No, he has far better entertainment in the flesh. Ray squirms, pulls his hands from his pockets to fold in front of him, and smiles again.

“Um, I got Sydney to give me Lisa’s number,” he says, “She’s the one who told me where you lived.”

Leonard hums. “And what, pray tell, inclined you to visit little old me?”

He reaches into the inside of his jacket and pulls a roll of cash with serial numbers he ingrained in his memory. It is just as full as it was when Leonard left it upon the table. Ray holds it out to him.

“I can’t accept this,” he says.

“Oh,” Leonard arches an eyebrow. “Let me guess, it’s too much?”

“It’s stolen,” Ray corrects. “I should phone the police.”

Familiar words make Len’s lips twitch upwards. He echoes, “But then we wouldn’t be having this wonderful conversation.”

“I suppose you could convince me out of it,” Ray points out, and Len feels his interest spike.

“Oh?”

Ray bobs his head when he nods. His voice is confident, so sure of himself – of Len’s answer – when he says, “Go to dinner with me.”

Leonard’s eyebrow raise a little more, startled more than amused. Well, this is unexpected. He would think it was a joke, but Ray doesn’t look like the type to make this kind of joke. His expression is too open for that. But honestly, Len wonders whether this is something wrong with him – who asks out the person who put a baseball bat threw their plasma screen?

Leonard thinks, if that’s foreplay, he cannot wait to see the main attraction.

“I expect champagne,” he answers, because he can’t bring himself to be so eager as to just say yes, but he doesn’t matter. Ray’s smile is blinding all the same.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on [tumblr](http://gladers.co.vu)


End file.
